We look innocent:
But don't be fooled.
Yesterday, as we were deciding where to go to brunch, Meagan spoke these legendary words:
"I don't care where we go as long as they have champagne."
So we started at La Note, a classy little French cafe in downtown Berkeley, and sat in a window seat over brunch and mimosas (we ordered a bottle).
After we left La Note, we decided to walk down the street to Jupiter. After all, nothing wrong with sitting outside at a brewery on a beautiful summer sunshiney day, right?
Three or four beers (each) later, we figured it was time to go home. But all that changed when we walked past Beckett's Irish Pub on our way down the street (don't worry; we walked to La Note, so neither of us was driving).
And that's where the magic began to happen . . . and then was immediately truncated when I picked a fight with a guy who worked there and got us kicked out of the bar. What a scrappy drunk I am.
But that didn't stop us! We then took a bus (not sure how we ended up on the right bus) back to my house, where Meagan proceeded to drink sweet tea vodka, while I decided it was a perfect time to pop open a bottle of wine. At which point my phone rang--it was a good friend of the family's who was in town on business. Come on over!
Needless to say, Ciaran arrived to two very sloppy girls. But he claims he still had fun.
And that, my friends, is the reason for my latest break from booze. Tomorrow I will be drinking wheatgrass shots and eating raw vegetables.